


Hey, little fighter

by Just_Maxence



Category: Fury (2014)
Genre: Don is so gentle, First fiction in english, Life is Cruel, Norman need hugs, Sad Story, lot of crew love, sorry for the few mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Maxence/pseuds/Just_Maxence
Summary: Norman is an angel.We all know that.





	Hey, little fighter

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOOOO this is my first story in english, sorry for the mistakes. This fic was waiting in my works since months and I wanted to show it to you. 
> 
> Norman is my favourite character and I think we didn’t know a lot about him (and about all the others). I was thinking of how he could end up in the army, which just don't fit him at all. Maybe his childish and sweet personnality could hide a hard past... 
> 
> Well, let me know what you think about it, and show me your idea (I mostly write Warmachine, so if you have a commission, I'm here)!

Norman didn't like storms.

Since he was a child until now, he had always feared them for a reason unknown to him. Tense on his cot, he forced himself to listen to Gordo and Bible to change the ideas of the storm that was raging. Don joined them , some envelopes yellowed by the rain in his hands. "The postman is gone, guys," he said.

The sergeant handed out his package. To Norman's surprise, he handed him a worn envelope. Who would take the trouble to write to him? With a little luck, maybe it would be an excuse.

In front of his circumspect air, Grady heckled ''I say a declaration of love!''.

Machine elbowed him, despite the fine smile that rolled up the corners of his mouth. He opened the letter and read it.

His smile fell immediately.

His heart stopped beating and froze him for a moment. All eyes were on him as the young man, livid, crumpled the sheet in his fist and dropped it on the ground. His breathing became harder and blackheads began to dance in front of his field of vision. ''Norman ...?'' Boyd murmured, worried.

The man gave him a look of distress before jumping down his bed and running away from the tent. The four men remained dazed. Don leaned over and straightened the cadet's letter. Curious, the troop gathered against his shoulders to read in their turn.

'' Norman Malcom Ellison,

I have the misfortune to announce that your father, Marcus Ellison, lost his life on March 18 in a car accident. Mr. Ellison died of his injuries three days after the impact. Not listed on his will, you will not inherit any inheritance and the house will be on sale as soon as you return home. If you die in service, all of your property and your budget will be sold with the house.

We also discovered your complaints to Mr. Ellison. Unfortunately, the lack of evidence and the death of it prevents us from further investigation. The file is closed.

Our sincere condolences,

\- Sir Rutherford ''

Coon-Ass came out of his torpor first. ''What kind of complaints ...'' "I'm going to talk to him," Don said before going out.

(...)

Norman did not even know what he was doing anymore. The sounds, the images, everything passed like in a fog, so much so that he went out into the storm without flinching. His heart had been horribly painstaking in recent weeks, but this letter from Judge Rutherford was the straw that broke the camel's back. He was broken, destroyed.

His father was dead. Remorse, hatred, and despair filled him from everywhere. Admittedly, Norman had never loved him, certainly the scars he carried by his fault would remain forever etched on his skin and his soul. But he was none the less his father. The person who, alone, had kept him alive for 10 years. Now he had abandoned him, too.

Machine collapsed in the mud, splashing wet soil. The sobs got stuck in his tight throat and cut his breath, twisting him with convulsions. His bowels seemed to have turned into razor blades and his stomach was returned. A stream of memory drowned him and brought the bile to his mouth. He vomited, without even knowing why he behaved that way. Nothing made sense anymore. There was nothing left but pain, as much in his burning throat as in his torn heart, which ran in him. He had no landmarks, no future.

He had no one left.

A rough hand then landed on the back of his head and held it back, as his stomach twitched again. "Gently, son," Don murmured. From the corner of his sleeve, the man gently wiped the traces of vomit on his lips. ''Come here'' he said.

Norman could not resist any longer and collapsed against the sergeant's chest. He rocked gently back and forth, running a hand along his back spasm. He had never seen his soldier in such a state, so broken and without landmarks. However, Norman had lost control of himself and broke free into a crisis of tears that could break anyone's heart.

After five terrible minutes, Machine calmed enough to move away a little bit and get up. Nevertheless, his knees were shaking so much that Don did not just keep his arm around his shoulders to comfort him, but also for fear that he would collapse.

Both of them returned to the big tent, denying the sidelong glances of the other soldiers.

(...)

Norman entered with his head down, a little ashamed of having exploded in this way in front of his companions. Yet not a single mockery flared as he sat on his seat. Wardaddy sat beside him.

''It will be fine?'' Grady said in a strangely sweet tone that surprised the younger.

He nodded and wiped his eyes. Boyd took one of the woolen blankets across the bed and covered his shoulders. The young soldier tried to make a smile, but only brought a sob to his lips. He bowed his head and dropped softly against Don's shoulder. ''I guess ... you want to know what happened.''

Bible exchanged a look both curious and embarrassed with Coon-Ass. "You do not have to," Gordo said. ''We are not going to...''

-''No, it's fine'' cut Machine. ''I want to talk about it. My father is ... was a politician. He married a ... a whore, and made a star out of her. You know Margareth Loss?''

All nodded, amazed by the younger man's revelation.

''It was my mother. A beautiful woman, I suppose. He'd found her in one of those brothels he often visited. She told him that she dreamed of becoming a singer, and my father promised her that he would fulfill his dream.'' Norman's gaze became vague. ''That's the only promise he ever made.''

"I guess she wanted kids, too," Grady said, getting a glare from Boyd.

''Her? No. My father either. And yet, that did not stop them from letting themselves go a bit too much ... I was born premature by 8 weeks, and I still had a slight stunted growth after that. I never really knew my mother. They were always parading on the red carpets, debating with leaders from everywhere in the world... I stayed at home, studying anything and everything.''

It was strange to have so many people listening to him so attentively. Norman could read amazement on the faces of Coon-Ass and Gordo, sadness over Boyd's, and ... an emotion difficult to explain on Don's features. Understanding? Pity? Machine paused a moment before continuing his story, throat tight. The hardest thing was yet to come.

''Then ... Margareth has developed cancer. A leukemia. I do not have a lot of memories of that. All I remember is the night they left the house in panic to get to the hospital. I never had permission to see her when she was there. Hardly ever. I went there once, on my birthday. (Norman smiled sadly.)I've asked that to my father, and I think he didn't really have choice to say yes... The next night, she died. I didn't understood at first, but when I saw her coffin... It hit something deep.'' 

''... how old were you?'' Silently asked Don.

''8 years old.'' (Norman bit his lip.) ''My father ... he'd never been the same after that. He started drinking, and when he was drunk, nothing stopped him from venting on me. It started slowly; an involuntary insult, an accidental slap. Then the first punch well thought, the first glass threw by the head...'' Machine touched his right temple unconsciously. Just below his unshaven hair was a small, almost resorbed scar. '' I stayed silent for 10 years. I was going home a minute late, I knew I was going to pay for it. After a while, I did not even pay attention. However, every time he was violent, he came back an hour later and burst into tears, telling me that I was his only hope and that everything would get better soon. It's stupid, but I often thought so. But when the suffering became too strong ... I took the last option open to me: I ran away and joined the army.''

Wardaddy was shot. Suddenly, shame gripped his throat at the thought that he had already hit that boy. Norman had just told them something difficult to confess and he knew how much courage it required. Don looked at him: He had tears in his eyes, but not one came out. At this time, the older man realised the nature of his kindness and his strong wisdom. Norman had grown alone, learning by the violence what the importance of being good was. Finally, death was not unknown to him. 

Don got up and put a hand on his shoulder. '' Even before the army, you always were a warrior. '' The sergeant turned to his companions, who gave him a warm look. "All of this is over now. We will not let anyone do anything to you anymore. You're one of us now.'''

With tears in his eyes, Machine let himself be dragged into a tight embrace. "Thank you," he whispered, burying his nose in the man's neck.

Gordo stood up and opened his arms caricatured. '' Hey, I want a hug too!'' Everything degenerated into a general hug, and even despite the odd situation, Norman couldn't help but smile. He had to admit it, he was happy with these guys, as crazy as they are.

After all, he was not alone anymore.


End file.
